I know it’ll pass but the lonely is strong when I don’t want to cry into my pillow, filling it with my hurt because I want to be held. When I want to cry into a chest more resilient than mine in the moment. To be pulled in tighter than I can hug myself. The … Continue reading The Lonely Hour
Alcohol is a hell of a drug but it’s not to blame.
The complexity of Being a Queer-Man-of-Color
I love to write, therefore I will write. Does it have to make sense to everyone? No.